


Panic

by notimetoblog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Fluff, F/M, Nothing but sweetness here, bucky fluff, fluffy fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-15 05:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19606210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimetoblog/pseuds/notimetoblog
Summary: Two little texts send your heart into a frenzy, and when the super soldier responsible for them doesn’t reply, you just hope he’s still alive for him to hear exactly what you think of him.





	Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi!!! here’s a one shot for you guys!! I haven’t posted one of these in a while so I truly hope you enjoy it! when I saw the texts online I knew I just had to write a fic around them for our favorite brunette super soldier lol. Thanks so much for reading!!

You know panic.

A failed parachute? You’ve experienced it and survived it. You thought that panic was enough to fill a lifetime. What could bring on more panic than freefalling from thousands of feet in the air with no means to break your fall?

Surely nothing.

Well, that’s what you had believed until you, again, lived and survived a mission gone wrong. Stupidly, you’d admit, you had turned off your comms to focus on the task at hand. Of course, this meant you missed all five of Steve’s attempts to warn you of previously unnoticed threats. To your defense, Steve really should do less talking over those things. Sure, he was lovely but having him in your ear for hours at a time was enough to drive anybody to the extreme.

The panic you experienced that time drew your blood cold. The unnoticed threats were pretty easily spotted when they were pointing guns at your face, each of the four men staring back at you more than ready to end you. Your instincts took over after that and the next thing you knew, you were being walked into the Quinjet a more than upset Steve again filling your ear with endless strings of words you just couldn’t and didn’t want to make out.

That panic you knew how to deal with. You knew once safe you could sit back, relax, and unwind.

But this current panic was beyond you.

You hold your phone in your cold hands, staring at the messages on the home screen.

Your ringer went off every night because if anybody enjoyed sleep, it was you. But that meant that you would wake up to voicemails, missed calls, and texts that were just waiting for you to get your day started. Nothing of importance was ever sent to your phone anyway. If there was an emergency, Steve had other ways to communicate them to you, and you knew he very much enjoyed getting to ring the alarms he had set up throughout your apartment. It was his form of payback for all the little things you did to him throughout the day.

This morning, though, you had not woken up to your usual texts, but to only two texts that were enough to make you want to scream.

_**Buck** : I need advice (3:46 am)_   
_**Buck** : never mind i already did the stupid thing (6:51 am)_

For almost two hours Bucky had thought about doing something so incredibly stupid even he felt the need to call it that.

He often prided himself in his genius ideas, and sure, at times they had gotten you out of trouble. More often than not, though, those ideas resorted to more unorthodox methods than your basic training had provided you with. Still, no matter how stupid those ideas were, he always called them his ‘genius hacks.’

That time he had literally shot himself in the foot to create a distraction? Genius hack!

The time he threw Sam out of a window to get his wings working again? Genius hack!

So, Bucky accepting his idea was stupid meant this was bad.

This was so bad.

Your fingers press his name on your phone; normally you would chuckle at the picture of Bucky attached to his info, but not today.

It was past 8 am, by this time he could be on his way to another country. He could be hurt. He could be dead.

A ring, and then five more, and no response.

“My god,” you say, jumping out of your bed throwing on whatever clothes you find laying around.

You’re a mess, a complete and total mess, and it only gets worse after every time Bucky doesn’t answer your call.

_**You** : Bucky I swear if you’re dead ill find some way to kill you again! And if you’re not… pick up THE PHONE!!!!!_

You had a soft spot for him; everyone was aware. Something in you both just seemed to click, but that did not mean you wouldn’t let him have it when he did something reckless.

He would simply lay on the charm in response, using those stupid big blue eyes of his to melt away your frustration.

“You’re cute when you get all worked up,” he’d say, a smile on his lips that made your heart beat just a little bit faster. The jerk knew very well how to get his way.

He was an idiot, but one that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not right now. Oh no. Right now, he was just the biggest idiot on the planet for disappearing like this.

You call again, crossing your fingers he would pick up, but no luck.

“He better be dead,” you find yourself saying while you rummage through the bag you had thrown on your couch after getting home late last night to find your house keys.

“I don’t think you mean that,” a very much alive Bucky says as you open the door to your apartment.

“You think this is funny?” you ask, letting him hear every bit of the worry that was consuming you only seconds ago.

“Just a little,” he replies, scrunching his nose, something you’d typically find adorable. But not today. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” he amends, feeling your door closing right in front of his face, choosing to stuff his left arm to stop you from closing it all the way. “I should’ve answered your calls, but in my defense, I was a little busy doing something else.”

“What? The stupid thing you needed advice on. You’re on your own if you did something to Sam’s wings.”

“I could tell you a bit more about what I did, darling, if you’d let me in.”

“Don’t even try the whole ‘darling’ thing right now Barnes,” you scold him, “because it won’t work. You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I know,” his voice is soft, and you hate him for it. “But I can explain everything I promise. And I was only ‘missing’ for like 4 hours, most of which you were asleep for, so come on, sweetheart, let me in.”

You pierce your eyes at the pet name, making him chuckle.

“I said sweetheart, not darling,” he winks.

“It better be good, Barnes,” you reply with a groan, opening the door up for him all the way.

With a smile, he walks into your apartment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t take him walking past you as an opportunity to scan him for injuries.

Your eyes rake past his back, down to his legs, looking for any sign of pain. Just looking out for anything you might need to patch up or any limping, of course, nothing more. But its harder to tell if he’s got any blood on him or anything else you should worry about.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt, dark jacket, and black denim jeans. If there’s anything on them, you can’t tell in his all-black outfit.

“I shouldn’t have called what I was thinking about stupid, really,” he began, causing your gaze to come back up to his face as he turns to look at you. “Because it’s not.”

“Another one of your genius hacks, huh,” you cross your arms wondering why you had even let yourself get so worked up from two little texts.

The answer was rather obvious, but still, it was better not to address it at the moment. It was better not to mess with a friendship that somehow managed to work despite both of your reckless attitudes.

“Not really,” he says, sitting down on the couch, hugging one of your throw pillows, a big fluffy white one. He would regret that later when he discovered how much it shed onto his dark jacket. But you’d take that as a tiny victory over him after the scare he gave you. “Had nothing to do with the job at all.”

“Then do enlighten me, Barnes,” you give him an eye roll, not ready to hear about whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

“Just call me Bucky, doll,” he says with a tiny pout, his eyes going wide- those stupid big blue eyes. “It means your mad at me when you call me Barnes, and if I’m honest, I don’t like the feeling.”

“I kinda am.”

“More relieved than mad, though, right? Cause I’m still alive.”

“Won’t be alive for much longer if you don’t talk.”

“Fine,” he laughs, and you curse yourself for finding it endearing, but it’s always lovely to hear him laugh. “It’s not something stupid, might be the smartest decision I’ve made in my life.”

“Oh my god,” you say in disbelief throwing another one of your pillows at him. “You jerk! What did you do to Sam?!”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” he says in between more laughs as he dodges everything you throw his way. “You need to stop that.”

In an instant, he’s up and has you backed up onto the door, hands pressed against your side.

“Sam is fine,” he says softly, now that he’s so close to you. “Probably still drooling.”

“Then what’d you do?”

“Well, I haven’t done it yet. That’s why I came here for.”

There was something new in his eyes. It was as if a new shade of blue swam in them, a shade that had never been seen before.

What on earth was he doing?

“You can let go of my hands now, Buck,” you say, trying your best to distract yourself from how close he was.

“Won’t throw more pillows at me?”

“I ran out.”

“Breaks my heart that’s the only reason you won’t throw them at me,” he chuckles, releasing his hold on your hands, partially, because for some reason he chooses to lace his fingers with yours.

And something in you screams because this may or may not be a dream you had a few nights ago- a dream you had pushed deep down, hoping it would never come back up again. And yet here it was.

“What’d you do?” you ask him again, hoping speaking through what you were feeling would be better than being drowned by it.

“I bought something,” he replies, his signature boyish grin on his lips but this time there’s something new; a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “For you.”

“Really?” you pretend that those words did not just travel to your core and erupted into thousands of butterflies.

“See, it wasn’t stupid, really. It was a mistake to call it that, but I did need some advice because I’m not the best at this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you question, not missing how comfortable his hands feel around yours; how meant to be.

“Us.”

And there it was, the moment that had only been real in daydreams, the moment you absolutely knew would melt your heart.

“I bought you flowers,” he continues, letting his thumb drag slowly across the back of your hand. “They’re outside. I kinda panicked when you opened the door.”

“Flowers,” you hear yourself say, disbelief clear.

“I ran across the entire city, finding a place that opened early enough for me to get them as soon as possible. I ran into a shop owner around 6:30, she was only there that early to drop a few things, but I begged her to let me get something, anything. She must’ve felt bad because she let me inside.”

“You’ve been looking for flowers since 4 am?”

“I guess that part was stupid,” he laughs. “But I couldn’t wait! And I really started looking for places at 5.” There’s a tiny pause, and his face goes completely blank. “You like flowers, right?”

It’s really hard not to reach out and bring him closer when he’s looking like a lost little puppy, but you hold yourself back, enjoying the way his eyes have gone soft.

“I do,” you confirm, melting at the way his smile shines like a million stars.

Goodness, he was cute.

“And me? Do you like me?”

“Sometimes,” you fib, giggling when he pouts.

“Cause I like you a lot.”

Were you ever really mad at him, you wonder, because who on earth could ever be mad at the man in front of you? With those big blue beautiful eyes, that charming smile, and that soft touch.

“You do?” you tease, voice low and silky as you feel him getting closer and closer to you.

“So much, darling. There isn’t anyone else who I like as much as you, to be honest. You’re the only one that makes me want to buy flowers at 5 am,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nobody else I’d rather hold hands with,” a kiss to your cheek. “Nobody else I’d rather spend time with. I’m entirely yours, what can I say?”

And then it happens, his soft lips finally press onto yours, slowly parting them to deepen the kiss. His hands leave yours only to wrap his arms around your waist, and it’s as if you’ve done this before. Your hands find themselves running up along his arms to his shoulders, finally getting lost in his hair, following a trail that you somehow already know.

“Be my best girl?” he asks in a husky voice, eyes opening slowly, and your lips long to be on his again.

“Yes,” you say in a hushed tone, just for him.

He loosens his hold on you, and the look on his face is any indicator it pains him just as much as it hurts you.

“I should get your flowers,” he says, timidly looking behind you at the door. “I think I chose well.”

He steps outside only to come back a few seconds, no longer as proud of his choice as he had been.

The roses in his hands are barely holding it together, with only a few of the stems still holding up flowers. Those that still remain are all missing most of their petals.

“I thought they looked better,” he confesses, frowning when he looks at the bouquet again. “Guess they took a little beating while I worked up the courage to come here.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, taking them from his hands and bringing them close to your chest.

And they were. They were from him, from the man who had just confessed his feelings for you. The man that drove you equally crazy with worry and with love.

He was yours, and you were his.

That’s all that mattered.

The stupid things you both got yourself into were more fun together anyway.

“I love them,” you laugh. “They’re perfect.”

The morning had started with panic, but this right here, that peace you felt when he held you close, that was worth it all.


End file.
